Silence
by PenandPaperlove
Summary: Who would have thought the silence would be so loud? Ichigo Kurosaki was constantly looking for ways to fill the silence that threatened to eat him alive. The last person Ichigo expected to break his silence was the new teacher. GrimmIchi. Yaoi. Potential Trigger Warnings.
1. Chapter 1

My fingers pause over the keys of my laptop as the silence began to fill my ears. It was a brief moment not longer than a couple of seconds as the tracks on my iPod switched. A couple of seconds to remember everything. As soon as the opening beats of the next song began to fill the void, I could feel my body instantly slump. It was a weird feeling, suddenly remembering so much pain in nanoseconds, and it always left me so exhausted. If I were to visit my therapist they would tell me its residual anger, but considering the circumstances, these are assumptions I'm only left to make. I close my eyes for a second to as I reminded myself to breathe, and when I opened them, I could see the door to my room crack open. I slip my noise canceling headphones off of my ears just as my younger sister pops her head into my room. My ears feel cold from the sheen of sweat that formed from my headphones.

"Hey onii-chan," Yuzu's smile was soft. "Dinner will be ready in a couple of minutes if you'd like to come down and join us."

Yuzu pauses for a second to see if I'll say anything. I don't, of course. She gives me another small smile before nodding her head and closing the door behind her. I feel like this has hit her the hardest. Of the three of us, Yuzu is the easy kid. She's never shed a tear, has a good attitude, a little mom in the making, even at twelve years old. When we were younger I remember singing cartoon intros with her and reading her bed time stories. Whenever I see her worry over me, it makes me feel even guiltier over everything and I hate myself just a little more. I slip my headphones back over my ears before there's a chance for the silence to make its way back into my life. Back to remind me of the darkness I could never escape.

I take a couple of deep breaths before I push my chair back and stand up, making sure to snatch my iPod off of my desk. I slip the ancient brick into my back pocket as I make my way down the stairs. I smile to myself slightly as I think about how the music flowing through my ears creates a soundtrack to my life. Like I'm in a movie and the song in the background depicts what kind of scene is about to occur. The smile slips off my face before there's a chance for anyone to see it.

When I finally reach the bottom landing of the stairs I see everyone already making their way to their designated spots around the table. Karin is pushing mom into her seat at the head of the table, the handles of her wheelchair flush against the underside. My mom looks up at me with a smile on her face, her love emitting from her in a way that pains my heart. I head over to her side to give her a quick kiss on the cheek and adjust the blanket draped against her legs. Sometimes I wonder why she put a blanket it across her lap when she couldn't feel anything from the waist down. I try to banish the thought quickly because it makes me feel like a bad son. But a lot of things I've done lately makes me feel like a bad son.

As I slip the headphones from my ears, I take my seat next to her as Karin takes her spot to my side. Downstairs I don't need to drown on the silence. People always wonder what it's like living with twins. When I was middle school my friends who hadn't met my sisters would ask me if I would ever mix the two up. Back then I would always just laugh, because if Yuzu was the sun, then Karin would be the moon. Despite having the same face, Karin and Yuzu had completely different hair. Yuzu had our mom's light colored hair, where Karin got our father's dark genes. Karin kept to herself, studied enough to get by, and lived out doors. She was loud, brash, and didn't take shit from anyone. I always like to think that she was strong enough to take on the world. If something ever happened to her, she'd speak out. At least I'd hope she would.

"Doctor Unohana has some new tests she'd like to try with you."

I look up, my dad is pushing the food that Yuzu served him around on his plate. He looks up at me with expectant eyes, like I'm suddenly going to acknowledge what he just said. I don't break eye contact with him, but I don't say anything either.

He lets out a tired sigh. "She said there's been developments in hypno-therapy that has showed promising results." He pauses again. "She'd like to try it with you at your meeting next week."

I blink a couple of times before I nod again, taking a bite of my food at the same time. My dad nods back before changing the subject. We try not to talk about me too much at the dinner table, I notice. I assume it's because it dampens the mood of family time. The rest of dinner is filled with the sound of Yuzu telling us about her day at school. Karin comments about how she has a soccer tournament coming up and she'd like us to go. I feel her nudge me with her knee under the table, sharp eyes staring at me until I respond that I'll go, a slight nod and nothing more. She seems content with this. Out of everyone in my family, Karin took to my silence the best. I'm not sure if it's because she's a naturally quiet person, or if she's doing it because everyone else is always pressuring me.

 _Pressuring me_. At the thought body seizes. I don't think it's noticeable to the rest of the table, but suddenly my heart is pound hard in my chest and it feels like it's about to pop out and keep beating on the table. A sheen of sweat breaks out on the back of my neck. The back of my ears grow hot the way they always do when I get nervous. My breathing begins to labor and I can feel myself choking on the small amount of food I had managed to eat. I don't say anything as I quickly push myself away from the dinner table and sprint upstairs. I run into the bathroom connected to my bedroom, throwing the lid of the toilet seat up and emptying my stomach into the waiting bowl.

Silent tears fall down my face, but I barely register them. The silence around me is so loud and I'm a blubbering mess on the floor. I try to reach for my headphones. Try to block out the silence that's filling the small space around me. I pull the headphones over my ears, loud music instantly filling the space. I roll on to my back and stare at the patterns on my ceiling. I'm still crying, hot tears rolling down my cheeks. I close my eyes, but images and memories are brought to the forefront of my mind. I snap my eyes open, too scared to even blink.

XXX

I let out a deep sigh as I walked towards the front of the school. I fell asleep on the floor the previous night and my back and throat were sore. I rubbed my hand across my face, as if that would take away the tiredness. I adjusted one of the ear buds as I was wearing in attempt to block out the sound of the hallway with little luck. I didn't say anything to anyone as I made my way to my classroom. I saw familiar faces of people I've grown up with my whole life, people who used to be my best friends up until a few months ago. Grey and purple eyes stared at me as I walked passed Orihime and Rukia. Rukia's eyes narrowed, but Orihime was looking at me with such love that I knew I didn't deserve. I looked away quickly as I turned up the volume on my iPod.

I can pinpoint the exact moment that I stopped talking. I can remember the last words that I spoke and who I said them too. I can remember the first time that I rejected my friends attempts to help me. I can remember the moment I knew they gave up on me. I can remember the time on the clock the first time I genuinely felt a lone. I can also remember the first time that I was okay with it.

School, like every day that I actually attended, droned on. If I had choice, I wouldn't show up. I did my work, but because I never talked, I never participated. I didn't sit with anyone at lunch, at least not anymore. The only days that I came to school was when I needed to a sense of normalcy. After a night like last night, school was exactly what I needed.

I stared down the essay that paper my creative-writing teacher placed on my desk. I looked at the seventy written in angry-red marker. It was circled a couple of times and there was a 'Stay After Class' note written in at the side. I thought it was weird. I knew there were students with worse scores than me. I looked over my shoulder at the teacher who was walking down the aisle placing papers on the other student's desk. He must have felt me staring because he looked back, a blue eyebrow lifting. Cerulean eyes bore into me in a way that made feel like he could see all my secrets. My cheeks heated and I turned away, staring at my paper again. I tried to look interest in the marks that he made on my paper, trying to see where I went wrong. If there was any subject that I was good at it was creative writing. It was an elective I took every year. A class a scored well in, up until this moment. I wanted to be a writer when I grew up, just one of the many secrets I kept to myself.

I couldn't concentrate during class. We were supposed to write a short story with a dark undertone. The teacher wanted us to tap into a memory that struck with us and pour it into our story. He said it would give depth, make the reader feel connected to the plot. He said that everyone can relate to a dark story when there was a history behind it. I laughed. No one could relate.

By the time that class was over and the rest of the students rushed to put their things away, after school just waiting on the other side of the door. I stay seated, putting my things away slowly. I looked up at where the teacher was waiting behind his desk. He was wearing reading glasses that aged him way beyond his years as he marked the paper in front of him. Grimmjow Jaegerjaques was a new teacher to the school, he started at the beginning of the term three months ago. He came from America to teach English and creative writing after the previous English teacher's visa expired. He was young, only 22, and beautiful which made on the girls blush. Shameless girls always tried to get him to tutor them and guys asked what his workout routine was like. It was weird to think that I was supposed to learn from someone who was only a few years my senior. He insisted everyone called him Mr. G and I kind of hated it. His hair was blue the color of the cotton candy my dad used to get me whenever we visited the amusement park. I always wondered if it was natural. It made him seem even younger and made it hard to take him seriously.

As if he knew I was thinking of him, he looked up. He removed the glasses that slid down his straight nose and placed them on the desk. I stood up from my own and made my way to the front of the class so I was directly before him. I sat on the top of the desk and waited for him to say something. He didn't. Silence filtered in and it was starting to make my ears itch. I tried to ignore the gnawing that was forming at the back of my head, but it wasn't working. The silence was so loud.

"Are you okay, Mr. Kurosaki?" His voice was soft, a low baritone that shook my bones. I didn't say anything. Silence settled in again. "Mr. Kurosaki?"

He had to have known. At the start of the term my dad made sure that all the teachers and staff knew that I stopped talking. That I was responsive, I could write, I listened. At first I was embarrassed, it was like a free pass. Because I was suddenly mute that I was broken or something. Teachers who had known me for the past three years, teachers who used to call me out for talking back to them, teachers who would send me into the hallway because I couldn't stop laughing when a classmate said 'orgasm' instead of 'organism,' walked on eggshells around me. They didn't question me when I wouldn't show up to school for weeks, but still aced the test they handed out. He had to have known.

"Do you choose not to talk or can't you talk?"

I looked up. Blue eyes boring again, searching. He looked down at the paper in front of him and marked something.

"The teachers are thinking that you're choosing not to talk. Some belated rebellion of some sort." More scribbling. "I think something happened that's keeping you from talking."

I've heard this before. Doctor Unohana told me this same line during our first session. It's the reason why I like her so much. She was the first to say that. All the other doctors just wanted to do tests. Doctor Unohana actually talked to me. There was a second or two of silence before I heard Mr. G clear his throat.

"I didn't ask you to stay after class to see if you'd talk to me."

I watched as he leaned back into his chair.

"I wanted to talk to you about your last paper. A seventy is still a passing grade, so you're not in trouble. It just seems weird that an A-student like you would drop thirty points." Mr. G reached for a file that was on his desk. He flip the front open and I recognized my handwriting instantly. "You're incredibly talented you know."

I caught his gaze. There was a sincerity that I've missed these past few months.

"Your old teacher left me some of the work from promising students. A lot of them were yours." He pushed the folder to me.

I reached for it, my eyes reading bits and pieces of the stories, the poems, the drafts that I had written. I could tell this was a different me. This wasn't the Ichigo sitting in front of Mr. G. He could sense that. It made me wonder if he was disappointed. My heart hurt at the thought of disappointing someone. Honestly, that was worse than someone being mad at you.

"If you're up for the extra work, I have a couple of extra assignments I could give you." He took a sip from the travel mug in front of him. It made me wonder if he was a tea or coffee drinker. I nod. "Okay, I'll set up a few assignments and get back to you later this week."

I found myself staring into the bottom of the ocean. Mr. G's gaze was strong and probing and as much as it should have made me uncomfortable, it didn't.

"Thanks."

I could feel my eyes go wide. My fingers coming up to touch my lips. I'm sure the shock on Mr. G's face resembled my own. My voice was rough from lack of use and I sounded like I was going through puberty all over again. It was one word but it was more than I've said in the last few months or so. My heart was stammering in my chest and I felt like I was going to vomit. Mr. G didn't chase me as I bolted from his room. I was glad that he didn't because it scared me that I might talk again.

* * *

 **WELP.**

 **I didn't mean to write this honestly. I upgraded my computer recently and forgot to back up my recent chapters of Flashing Lights and So You've Returned. I've had a shit time trying to bring them back to what they once were, especially because they were almost completed, but it's just not happening.**

 **So this little number popped in my head. Not sure when I'm gonna update this, but the story I want for this kept growing.**

 **Let me know what you think.**


	2. Chapter 2

**THIS HAS A POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING. DIDN'T WANNA RISK NOT LABELING IT**

* * *

My first couple of sessions with Doctor Unohana were awkward. I was a shitty patient. I'm still a shitty patient, but to a lesser degree. I have been in therapy since I was nine. I almost killed my mom. Sometimes I wish that I was in the wheel chair instead. That's called survivor's guilt. My mom got hit by a car and lost the use of her legs. I walked away with a fractured wrist in a cast. I remember all my classmates signing it, like that would speed up the recovery. Where was I supposed to sign for my mom's recovery?

I left my first therapist after I stopped talking. He was good natured about it but I could tell that he wanted to do more tests on me. Those made me nervous and made me want to talk less. I've been through a series of therapist since then. Most only last a week at most. Until I met my dad's colleague. Doctor Unohana was nice. She had this sweet face that made me feel like she'd bring me cookies and milk if I had trouble sleeping. When I think about how shitty of a patient I've been the past month and a half, it makes me feel guilty. It's that whole disappointment thing all over again. She reassures me that I don't disappoint her. That healing is a process and that my process is just taking some time. She smiles sweetly and genuine. As sweet as she is, I can tell there's something scary about her.

When I walk into her office she's busy feeding her pet lizard. I always thought it was a weird pet, like she should have a dog or a cat or something. I don't comment on it though. She looks over her shoulder and smiles at me, pointing to the couch and coffee table. She has a white board and markers set up on the table. The first few sessions I didn't even touch them. I felt like I was being mocked. I was even more upset when she explained that the different colors represented my mood for the day. Whichever marker I chose for the day helped her with my "healing."

I hated that her room was always quiet. The silence seeping into areas that they didn't belong. The first few sessions we sat there. I kept my music on a blocked her out. She didn't mind. If I didn't talk to her she just did busy work. Sometimes I could faintly hear her through the music, just talking. Over time I lowered the volume. I'd switch out my noise canceling headphones for ear buds. Then eventually I'd take it out and listen to her voice.

The first time I used the markers I picked up a red on, anger she explained, and wrote 'I HATE SILENCE' with tons of exclamation points, I had to make sure she got the message. When only one person is talking, there's a lot of chances for the silence to seep in. She nodded her head and turned to a radio in the room. She turned in on, soft music playing in the background. I stopped using my earbuds then. She always made sure something was playing when we met and sometimes she'd let me play my iPod, but that was only when I was really good the previous session. Reward systems were another therapy thing. Today she let me play my own music, which helped relax me considering the news I had to tell her.

It had been four days since I spoke to Mr. G. Ever since then I couldn't look him straight in the eye. I couldn't tell if he looked at me any differently. He was a teacher after all, it wasn't like I was his only student. The few times we caught eyes, it made me nervous. Sometimes I'd see those blue eyes and I could feel words forming on the tip of my tongue and I'd have to look away. I don't think he told any other teachers about it, because the rest of the staff didn't say anything. I'm assuming he didn't tell my parents either because they didn't say anything either. Another secret to add to my growing list, I suppose.

Doctor Unohana sits down on the big chair perpendicular to the couch. It looks chair and would be nice to take a nap in after a cup a tea. I wouldn't know; I always sit on the couch. As soon as I sit down on the couch, I reach for the white board and a green marker. Green is for confused. I see Doctor Unohana smile slightly at this as she raises her thin eyebrow. I can tell she's pleased by considering it usually takes me a few minutes before I say something.

 _I talked._ Two words, written carefully before I show the doctor. She doesn't even try to hide her surprise.

"That's surprising, I can see what you're confused." Doctor Unohana looks at me with a small smile. I feel like a nine year old. "May I ask who it was?"

 _Grimmjow Jaegerjaques._ I sound out his name in my head the way teach you in elementary school.

She cocks an eyebrow at this but doesn't say anything; neither do I.

 _He's my writing teacher. I only said 'Thank you,' but it scared me._

The thing I really like about Doctor Unohana is that she doesn't write anything down. My old therapists wrote everything down while we talked. So impersonal. We sit for a second before she says something, from the look of her face it seems like she's trying to figure out to word her question.

"What made you compelled to talk to him?"

I shrugged my shoulders and put down the marker. I didn't really have anything else to say. I talked. It scared me. That was it. A shitty patient once again.

I'm assuming my body language told her that we were done with the conversation, because Doctor Unohana clasped her hands in front of her and let out a sigh.

"I'm assuming your dad told you what I wanted to try today." A beat. "I know how you feel about tests, and I promise if you don't like this we don't have to try it again."

Another beat. My heart is hammering in my chest in an unrecognizable speed. Being nervous doesn't even touch how I'm feeling right now. Scared. Terrified. Worried. I did a little research of hypnotherapy before coming in today. Some people said it brought out their worst fears and magnified it. If I can tap into memories on my own, how much worst could it get? I don't say anything. I know she's waiting for me. I look her blue eyes. So familiar but they don't pierce me the same way as another pair. She's waiting. I nod.

Apparently hypnotherapy is nothing like what they depict in the movies. There was no swaying watch. No, 'You are getting sleepy' repetition. Doctor Unohana has me lay back on the couch and close my eyes. She told me relaxing words that put me at peace. There was a lull in the music as the iPod changed tracks, but her soft words kept the silence at bay. I listened as the next song started. It was a Gorilla Warfare Tactic song. I focused on the beat of the Common song they sampled. I wonder if it was weird for Doctor Unohana to have hip-hop playing in her office. She always had Sinatra playing when I came in. I lost my self in the thoughts and next thing I knew, I was under.

XXX

"Ichigo, Ichigo."

Warm. Heavy. Panting. Smothering.

"St-stop." I whine. How unmanly.

He didn't. He kept going.

"You're so beautiful"

Stop lying. Rip. Tear. Grasp. Stroke.

"Please, stop." I pushed hard. Nothing happened.

"But baby, you know you want this."

Release. Press. Pain.

"I don't, I don't, I don't." I'm crying.

XXX

I'm crying.

Hot tears are streaming down my face and I can't breathe. I'm gasping for air like a fish out of water. My voice is hollow, loud angry cries. Doctor Unohana has her arms wrapped around me and I realize belatedly that this is the first time someone has embraced me in the last three months. I can't stop the tears. Everything felt too real.

Doctor Unohana pulls my head into her small into her chest and starts stroking me the way my mom used to whenever I lost a karate match. It makes me feel both better and worst at the same time. I don't know how long it takes for me to calm down. Doctor Unohana's assistant walks in saying her next appointment is here. She doesn't say anything, but I hear him rush out quickly. I need to compose myself but I can't. I can feel it all over again and I'm terrified.

Doctor Unohana lets go of me after I get my breathing back to normal. Tears are still falling silently but at least I'm not freaking out anymore. I listen as she picks up the phone to call my father. Usually I can walk home on my own, but she doesn't feel comfortable with that. It feels a bit childish to get picked up by someone. I listen to one side of the conversation before she puts down the phone and turns back to me. A soft smile on her face.

"Your dad is tied up at the clinic. Your mom and Yuzu are on their way." She doesn't discuss what just happened. Not yet. "If you're comfortable with it, you can wait in the lobby until they come."

I nod my head. As I stand up, I wipe my eyes and make my way over to the dock to retrieve my iPod. I let out a shaky sigh as I turned back to face Doctor Unohana. I give her a small wave before heading out of her room. Slipping my earbuds in, I take a seat in the lobby closest to the door closest to the door so that I can see my family. I can feel Doctor Unohana's assistant staring at me, but I make sure not to look back. He's a mousy guy that always offers me sweets after my doctor's appointments.

It takes about twenty minutes for Yuzu and my mom to turn the corner. As soon as I see them, I stand up and exit the building. My mom has a smile on her face on her face as I approach her. I lean down to give her a kiss as she asks me how my session went. I shrugged, feeling guilty that she asks this. I wonder if she's expecting me to answer. Shitty patient, shitty son.

Yuzu steps to the side so that I could push mom on the way back home. She stays close to the side of the wheel chair, running over the list of groceries they needed to buy for tonight's dinner: curry. My favorite. They know I had a bad session and they're trying to cheer me up. I hate them a little.

"Do you mind if we stop by the grocery store on the way back?" My mom shifts in her wheel chair so that she can look back at me. "Is that okay, honey?"

I nod and push the chair in the correct direction.

"Onii-chan," Yuzu slows down a little so that she's walking directly beside me. "Today in home economics my teacher complimented me on the cream puffs we made today. I told her how we used to make them all the time when we were younger. Did you want to try making them again?" She smiled, and I noticed for the first time it that it looked a bit sad.

I try and smile back as I nod. I wonder if it looks as fake as if feels. But for Yuzu, I'd swim across the Pacific.

"Tousan said that he was going to be starving with the amount of patients he was seeing today. So let's make lots and lots for him."

Yuzu bounced along as I continued to push my mom. My mom smiled at her and my heart ached a little. It was the same smile my mom would always greet me with after karate practice. The same smile that I saw right before my mom was hit. I try not to think about the accident too often, since we've mostly moved on from it. But every now and then I get a reminder that I'm to blame for everything. I feel like my silence helps me cope with this.

When we get grocery store, Yuzu takes my mom's wheelchair from me so that they could browse the aisles for the items that they need. I walk in the opposite direction of the store on my own, listening to the sound of Etta James blaring from the small speakers. I'm not looking for anything in particular as I'm walking around. This is mostly to distract myself what happened with Doctor Unohana. In the past few months, I noticed focusing on daily activities were the best distraction.

I was reaching for the last ramune when another hand bumped into mine. It was warm and shocked me. A reminder of how little physical interaction I received recently. Jumping a little, I looked up only to find the ocean staring back. Cotton candy hair was hidden by a black beanie, but his beauty was enough of a reminder. My neck warmed and I could feel my ears flushing. I could feel his breath on my face, smoky and exotic. In this moment I realized I hadn't been this close to someone in ages. My heart hurt a little.

I know it was only seconds, but it felt like we were standing there for eons. Mr. G stepped back immediately, eyes wide as if he was as surprised to see me as I was him. Seeing a teacher outside of school should have been weird. Most of the time I tend to forget that teachers have lives like the rest of the world. But for some reason, seeing Mr. G stand here in the local convenience store was so, well, normal. I know I was staring at him, but he was staring back, which had to count for something.

"Mr. Kurosaki, fancy seeing you here." I blinked in response. "I was grabbing a drink on my way home from work. Looks like we have the same taste." He leaned forward to grab the bottle. He studied it for a second and it almost seemed like he was stalling. "Here, you can have it."

He held out the bottle for me to take. When I didn't reach for it, he reached forward to grab my hand and place it there for me. Mr. G's hand was warm. It shocked me how okay it felt to hold me, even for that millisecond. Usually whenever someone touched me, I'd flinch away. Why didn't I do that? I studied the bottle in my hand, the temperature cooling my heated skin.

"I'm gonna grab a coffee instead. "

I watched as he reached forward to grab canned coffee. He looked back at me. I wonder if he thinks I'm going to thank him again. That was a one time. A fluke. I could barely even look at him recently, even when he was giving me extra assignments to work on, he did all the talking. Mr. G was surprisingly good at keeping up a one-sided conversation. It scared me when he'd respond to something I said in my head. It scared me to think that I actually said something out loud.

"So what are you doing he-"

"Honey?"

I could hear the familiar sound of tires rolling against the tile floors. I looked over my shoulder and sure enough my mom and Yuzu were rounding the corner. The basket on my mom's lap was full of ingredients and she had a soft smile as she looked up at me. There was a curious look in her eyes as she peered behind me. As she approached me, I stepped to the side so that she could get a better view of Mr. G. When I looked back at Mr. G, I was expecting to see the look that I saw in everyone's eyes when they first meet my mom: Pity. I was genuinely surprised to see the soft smile on my teacher's face. Honestly, it was a look I was never expecting, especially from the hard-ass teacher who was known for his "sexy mysterious scowl" he donned in the classroom. That was my classmate's words, not mine.

"Hi Honey, who's this?"

Again, my mom was expecting a response she'd never receive. Shitty son.

"Nice to meet you Mrs. Kurosaki." Mr. G took a step forward to shake my mom's hand. "I'm Grimmjow Jaegerjaques. I'm Ichigo's creative writing teacher."

It was weird to watch them interact. My mom looked even more fail next to Grimmjow's tall, powerful stance. I was the reason she was like this. Yet again, shitty son.

"Oh! I hope that my Ichigo is learning a lot from you. You're so young, I would have never pegged you for a teacher." My mom smiled up at Mr. G. Was she swayed by his looks like the countless girls in class?

My stomach did a weird flip that I hadn't felt in a while.

Mr. G laughed at my mom's comment, a shit-eating grin formed on his full lips. "I get that a lot." Blue eyes met mine and I'm pretty sure a part of me melted a little. I didn't like it. "Ichigo is a great student. We had a little hiccup recently, but he's bounced back."

I don't think I'll ever get over the idea of people talking about as if I'm not in the room. But I suppose when you don't talk there's very little that you can add to conversation. The two of them made small talk as we walked up to the cash register. Once outside my mom and Yuzu bid Mr. G good bye and began to walk away. I stayed back with Mr. G and watched them walk off. When I looked up at him, blue eyes were scanning across my face. I could feel the blush rise to surface of my cheeks.

"Thank you."

Mr. G looked up at me in surprise. My voice was hoarse. I wonder if it was from crying or lack of use.

"For?"

We don't say anything for a second as we just stared at each other. Words were forming on the tip of my tongue and before I could stop them I was speaking again.

"For not looking at my mom with pity."

My throat hurt. It sounded like I was going to cry again.

Mr. G shrugged his shoulders as he looked at my mom and sister growing smaller in the distance. "There's nothing to pity. Everyone has their horrors stories, Mr. Kurosaki."

"Ichigo." I looked him dead in those ocean blue eyes. "I like to go by Ichigo."

Mr. G stares at me hard, a small frown forming on his lips. What is that look for? "Ichigo."

The way he says my name, as if he's tasting it on his tongue, sends shivers down my spine. I take in a deep breath before I give him a small nod. I don't say anything else as I walk away from him. My steps are fast. I'm not sure if I'm trying to catch up with my family or if I'm running away from him.

XXX

Dinner was quiet and uneventful. My dad asked how my session went and the question went unanswered. Yuzu made a great curry and I helped her make cream puffs like I promised. They were delicious and it was nice to spend some time with my sister. I spent some time after dinner in my room, listening to music and writing a story based on something Mr. G had assigned me. Halfway through the story, I was starting to get restless. I glance at the clock and notice it's nearly midnight. Slipping on my earbuds, I pad out of my room and head towards the kitchen to grab some leftovers.

There's a glow in the living room as I approach the first floor and I can tell that someone is watching TV. It's a bit surprising that anyone is up this late. When I step into the living room I take one of the earbuds out as my mom sitting on the couch comes into view; her wheelchair stationed next to her. I wonder if my dad forgot about her and that's why she's still up. A small flare of rage forms, until I realize that my dad would never do that. If only she hadn't gotten hit by the car, she'd be okay to go to bed on her own. She smiles when she sees me and my heart breaks.

"Hey baby, come sit with me for a while." She pats the seat beside her.

She hasn't called me baby in a while. It feels weird to be seventeen and called baby. Especially when I have two younger sisters that she can call that. Regardless, I make my way over to the couch. I sit on the couch next to her for second before I shift so that I can lay down with my head in her lap. I pull my knees to my chest as I curl into a ball. I can feel my mom smiling down at me as she strokes my short hair. I close my eyes at the feeling. The feelings makes me feel small.

"Today was a good day wasn't it?" Her voice is soft, just like the stokers in my hair. "I don't know what happened at your session today, but I'm glad I was able to pick you up. It's been a while since I've gone on a walk with Yuzu." I suck in a breath as my body freezes. My mom must have noticed. "Oh sweetie, I didn't mean it like that."

I feel water splash on my face. When I turn to look, my mom is staring down at my with a sad smile tears silently slipping down her face. My mom cups my face with one hand as the other goes to wipe the falling tears. I want to tell her I love her. I want to tell her I was sorry. I wanted her to know how badly I wished I was the one to be in the wheelchair. But I don't say anything. Instead I lay there staring at my mom.

We lay in silence for a while. Once my mom finally stops crying, I roll back onto my side so that can we can watch whatever is playing on TV. I'm not sure how I'm laying therefore before I hear heavy breathing behind me. Looking over my shoulder, I see that my mom has fallen asleep. Carefully, I get up from my spot so that I can lift my mom off the couch. She's lighter than I remember, though I have grown a lot recently. Slowly, I make my way past the kitchen to the extension that my dad built in the back of the house shortly after the accident. I place my mom on her bed and make my way out of the room.

Taking a deep breath, I slip my earbuds back in; the sounds of Death Cab for Cutie washing over my body. The walk up to my room seems long as I pass by Yuzu's room and then Karin's, my former room. I notice that her light is still on despite it being so late. Had it been a few months earlier, I would have popped my head in and told her to go to sleep. Instead, I walked past the room, towards the master room that I now slept in. Sometimes when I went into my room it would feel weird. It was my sanctuary, but also a place my mom could no longer visit. Conflicted feelings for a shitty son.

I made my way back to my laptop, fully intending to get back to the paper at hand, but I couldn't concentrate. I hopped onto the internet and fired up the different social media I used to frequent. I checked up on old friends, happy to see they still hung out with one another. It's only been a few months, but a lot could change in that time. I would know.

Honestly, I'm not entirely sure how I ended up on his page. A clicking mutual friends, I suppose. All I knew was that I was staring into piercing blue eyes that made me want to speak to a computer screen. His profile wasn't private, which was a little weird for a teacher. Maybe it was an American thing. I didn't understand anything on his page, other than the school name that was listed in the occupation section. I clicked at his pictures section, because honestly that was the only thing I could understand. Clearly, my English grade wasn't the greatest.

There's a ninety-nine percent chance that it was impossible for Mr. G to take a terrible picture. Every since photo of him looked stunning. Even the candid ones. Especially the candid ones. Dear lord, there was a picture of him shirtless by a lake or a beach, it didn't really matter to me. I wouldn't be able to look at him the same ever again. I clicked through all of his pictures, there were a lot of them. I felt like a stalker or maybe those like those girls who were obsessed with him, but I didn't really care.

There was shock on my face when I got to the last picture in his list. Mr. G had his arms wrapped around someone with pink hair, his lips pressed firmly against the other person's cheek. The pink haired person looked like they were laughing uncontrollably at the display of affection. It made them even more beautiful. If you didn't look close enough, you would have assumed the second person was a female. Slim build, shoulder length bubble gum pink hair, cheek bones that could kill a man. But upon closer inspection, as in my nose up against the screen, I could definitely tell the second person was definitely a male.

Mr. G was gay and it settled with in me in a very unnerving way.

* * *

 **I'm incredibly pleased with how much support this has received.**

 **Sorry for a somewhat short chapters (if you read my other stories they tend to be twice the length) but I hadn't updated in a while and I wanted to get something out. I hope you guys still enjoyed and that some things are starting to make sense.**

 **Please leave a review or a little love, it's all the motivation I need.**


	3. Chapter 3

By Monday morning I had known every single detail of the picture on Mr. G's Facebook from staring at it for so long. I knew how many buttons were on his shirt. I knew how many buttons were undone. I know just how many people were standing in the background, how many had drinks, and that the couple in the back corner were probably two seconds away from having a room of their own. What I couldn't tell you was who the man in the picture was. I looked for tags, scoured through all of his friends, but I couldn't find anything. I spent the entirety of the weekend obsessing over this picture for reasons beyond me. I knew that I wouldn't say anything to him today when I saw him, but I was still incredibly anxious to see him.

My mind was still on him on my lunch break and I was only two classes away from finally seeing him after three days. My heart jumped in a weird way but I've decided not to dwell on it. I was sitting a table in the courtyard, working on another assignment that Mr. G had given me the week before. The courtyard was busy enough that I didn't need both my earphones in, so I was listening through music through one ear and listening to the business of the student body with the other. And then I heard it.

I didn't need to look up to know exactly where that rev of the engine was coming from. I closed my eyes and wave of panic washed through me. I looked up slowly, and sure enough my eyes fell on a gunmetal colored RSX. I knew that if the windows had been rolled up, the tint would have been so dark that I wouldn't have been able to see the raven haired man sitting in the front seat. I'm sure my eyes were the size of saucers, and I'm sure they grew bigger when the man I was staring at turned to stare back. Ginjou's eyes caught mine and a devilish smirk made its way to his lips. he kept his eyes on me the entire time he shifted his car and pulled away from the curb.

I was going to be sick.

I tried to grab all of my things and stuff them into the messenger bag I had on the table before I threw up. I ran as fast as I could away from the courtyard to the nearest planter, leaned over the edge and emptied my stomach just as the end of lunch bell went off. Initially I thought that because I didn't eat much for lunch was a good thing, but I was definitely wrong. It was way worse. My throat and my stomach burned as I heaved stomach acid into the planter.

The courtyard was quiet and I was sure that no one had seen me; too busy getting to their next class to notice the carrot-top dying in a planter. The quiet scared me and it was only then that I realized that my ear bud had fallen out in my haste to get to the planter. I was just about to put my earbud in place when I heard the crunching of grass. It's a crazy feeling to realize you're not safe and alone; that there was someone there to witness your darkest feelings. I wish I could say I didn't know how was behind me, but in a short period of time, my body had become accustom to the aura that was engulfing me.I pressed my palms into the planter and let out a couple of deep sighs. I stared at the ground hard as I turned around, as if I didn't see him, he couldn't see me.

"That's disgusting."

I felt my eyes narrow as I stared up at him, but they widened once I noticed that he was smirking

"If you're gonna yack, at least do it where no one could see you."

My body reacted on its own when I realized that he was tossing me something. My hands caught the water bottle clumsily. I looked up at Mr. G but he was already turning around to walk towards the classrooms. Looking down the bottle, I noticed that it was half empty already. There was a sense of heat that crept up my cheeks as I uncapped the bottle, pressed my lips against the rim and titled the liquid into my mouth. I took a couple of quick swigs that I spit out to rinse my mouth before drinking the rest of the contents to soothe my aching throat. Mr. G must have noticed that I hadn't moved because he stopped where he was a few paces in front of me to turn around.

"You coming or what?"

He didn't say anything else as he turned back around and walked on. I picked up my discarded bag from the grass and followed him with a sense of urgency. I hated how I felt in his presence. Scared, anxious, relieved, worried, excited, content. Feelings were a waste of time, especially when they all rush you at once. I hated that I was drawn to him like a moth to a light. I hated that I wanted to talk to him. Feelings were definitely a waste of time.

It was a little surprising to find Mr. G's classroom empty when we got there. I should have figured he had a free period of something considering he had rush walk back to the classroom. The entire walk to the classroom I was pretty confident about following my writing teacher back to his classroom, but now that we were there I found the room suffocating. Mr. G didn't say anything as he settled down behind his desk. I realized belatedly that I didn't have any music playing my earbuds were dangling uselessly from my hand. I went to put them back in but Mr. G cleared his throat.

"As a teacher, I feel like it's necessary to ask you what happened back there." He was shuffling some papers that were on his desk. He looked up slowly and I could see those oceanic eyes outlined by thick eyelashes. Something stirred. "But I suppose I shouldn't be surprised if you didn't answer."

I moved into the room and settled myself into the desk directly in front of him. It wasn't my assigned seat and it felt weird being out in the forefront. "I'm more surprised at myself when I answer any of your questions."

An icy blue eyebrow quirked. "And why is that?"

I didn't say anything. A clocked ticked some where. I shrugged. I felt like I was in one of my sessions. The silence was overbearing. Without thinking I slipped one of my earbuds in. I could feel eyes on me as I fiddled with the iPod in front of me. I didn't look for a specific song, I just hit shuffle and let the sounds of Bloc Party wash over me. It was soothing familiar beat and it fills the silence that had fallen between me and my teacher.

My teacher.

I really had to remind myself that Mr. G was my teacher. My mind instantly went to the pictures I had seen over the weekend: him shirtless, him with his friends, him with his arms wrapped around another man. My heart sunk. Suddenly I felt like a major creep. I closed my eyes as I tried to keep my composure.

When my eyes slid open I found blue eyes blazing at me. I could tell that he hadn't taken his eyes off me since he's looked up. I stare back at them and once again I get a feeling that the words I've been hiding for the past few months tumbling up my throat like word vomit. All I could feel were his eyes probing, asking questions that I'm suddenly so desperate to answer. As I stare into blue, they remind me of an ocean, and just like that stormy grey eyes enter my mind. Word vomit is making its way to the tip of my tongue. I try my hardest to keep it down, but then I realize that it's not word vomit coming up, it's actual vomit.

I'm guessing there was a look on my face because suddenly Mr. G is standing in front of me with a trash bin placed in my face. My stomach empties, but it's not much considering that I had thrown up not even twenty minutes ago. I dry heave into the trash can, suddenly wishing I could disappear. I pull the trash can into my laugh and take in deep breathes. The silence has fallen between us again and I can feel it trying to worm its way into my subconscious and open everything I try so hard to keep hidden.

I close my eyes one my time and look at Mr. G in front of me. He's kneeling on the floor and looking at me with such concern.

"I know you're gay." Word vomit this time.

My eyes went wide. Out of all the things that I could have said that was definitely not what I wanted to say. I watch as a smirk plays on his lips.

"It's not really a secret."

Mr. G sits back on his haunches and crosses his arms over his knees. As he does this, I notice a tattoo of an equal sign on on the back of his arm. In that moment I realized that Mr. G always wore long sleeves, rolled up slightly on occasion. I knew he had tattoos, I saw in a few pictures, but it wasn't like I was going to tell him that.

"Do the girls know that?" I realize belatedly there's a tone in my voice that I don't recognize.

Granted, I barely recognize my voice at all at this point.

Mr. G closes his eyes and throws his head back as he lets out a laugh. A true genuine laugh that causes my cheeks, ears, and neck heat up. My stomach knots and I'm pretty sure that I would die if I never got to hear it again. He's still smiling when he looks back at me.

"I'm sure they do, but choose to ignore it."

"Or you like the attention."

Mr. G was grinning so wolfishly that I was sure that he was going to tell me that he had swallowed my granny whole. "The attention of girls is not something that really goes for me, Ichigo."

I blushed and and looked away. I liked the way that he said my name. Did he know that I wish I grabbed his attention?

I turned back to him and there was a new fire in his eyes that I recognize. I wait for the feeling of nausea to return but it doesn't. I wait to feel sick, to want to run, and to want to scream, but it never comes. Instead, something else comes over me.

I don't know what happens, but suddenly I'm on the floor crying. I feel like an idiot. All I know that is that I've thrown myself from my desk. My arms are wrapped around my knees as I bawl into my chest. My mind tries to push back all the thoughts that are consuming me. Fear. It's worse that nausea really. It hurts me like no other. I can feel all the memories flashing back to me and I try my hardest to stop them but they don't. Touches, gropes, fire in eyes that I wish I could erase from my mind forever.

I feel crazy. I am crazy. He probably thinks I'm crazy.

There are arms wrapped around me and I'm thrashing like a maniac trying to get them off around me. The grasp locks and I feel strong, corded arms hold me into place. My breaths are coming out in harsh pants, gasping for air like a fish. I'm trying to scream to let me go, but like always the words are caught in my throat. I'm still rocking and gasping when I over hear that end of class bell go off. Panic sets in me again as I realize in any minute students are going to filling into the classroom and see the state of us. As if I wasn't a big enough freak as it is.

The arms around me release me and I feel myself being practically dragged off the floor and out of the classroom. I'm pretty sure that my arms has popped out of its socket with the force that Mr. G uses to pull me out of the room. I'm walking in a daze, my heart and head hurting from everything that's happened in the last hour. I could feel eyes staring at me as Mr. G drags me by the wrist to the front office. I can't tell if the flush that I know is apparent on my cheeks are from what happened or from embarrassment of my classmates staring at me. I thought I was over their opinions, but apparently not.

Belatedly, I realize that Mr. G is taking me to the front office. I follow him in like a kicked puppy. He leans over the front desk to talk to the receptionist. She's young and she's staring at Mr. G like he was a piece of meat. My eyes narrow.

I hear him say something about me not feeling well and that was going to escort me home. The receptionist looks over his shoulder at me, she asks if I should see the nurse first, but Mr. G insists it's okay and that I'm better off leaving school entirely. Once again, I feel the uncomfortable shift in the room when I realize that someone has to speak for me. I'm sure the lady at the front desk has been informed with my situation because she doesn't question Mr. G any more.

He turns around and stares at me with hard eyes. A flush creeps up my neck once again. He walks towards me, reaching past me slightly to open the door to the office. He holds it open for me and waits until I walk out before following me. He leads the way to the front of the school, except this time he lets me walk on my own and is no longer dragging me through the halls like a caveman. He waits by the front doors while I head to my locker and change my shoes. Once again, he opens the door for me and I walk out with my head tucked into my chest.

I don't look him in the eyes, but I see through my peripherals that he's motioning to the front gates. The front gates that I saw those stormy grey eyes not too long ago. My heart tenses. My emotions are all over the place and it's exhausting. Instantly, I figure I should text Dr. Unohana and ask for an emergency session. I've done it before but I always feel bad when I just end up sitting in the peace of her office to escape the calamity that occurs in the real world.

Mr. G is waiting for me to pull out of whatever thought I was in and starts walking towards the front gate. Yet again, I find myself following his lead. He pauses at the front gate as if he's waiting for me to point him in the right direction. Point to the left side of the entrance and start making my way down the path. The distance between my house and the school isn't very far, by any means, but today it feels like an eternity. Mr. G is silent as he walks next to me, our paired footsteps really the only thing that's making noise.

I can feel myself wanting to tell Mr. G everything, let him know what's happened to me, let all my dirty laundry air out, but I can't. I have an undying need for him to know, to comprehend that I wasn't like this before. That I was a normal seventeen year old until it was ripped away from me and then I wasn't. I want him to know that my breakdowns aren't his fault, and while I know he doesn't suspect that they are, I want him to be sure. I want him to know that I'm broken and there's no fixing me.

The tears fall before I can stop him. My house is only a block ahead, growing in the distance with each step. I find myself slowing down. I can't explain what's happening, what's wrong with me. All I want is to be alone, but Mr. G's presences is welcoming and I hate it. I hate that he has this unknown effect on me. I hate that want to stay with him longer and run away at the same time. I hate that I talk to him. I don't talk to anyone.

As if he sensed it, I feel Mr. G stops next to me and faces me. I watch as his hand comes up and makes its way towards my face. I know he's only going to wipe my tears away, but something inside causes me to flinch away from him. He notices and retracts his hand away like I snapped at him. Guilt washes over me as I look up at him.

Those damn eyes. Always probing, always asking, always wishing I'd answer. They watch me in a way that I wish I hated, but I don't. I know this means nothing to him, I'm some punk student with issues and he's a concerned teacher. Again, my emotions are getting ahead of me. Fuck, I sound like a whiny brat and this isn't me at all.

As I reach up to wipe my falling tears I let out a deep breath. I look to my left and stare down at my house. Mr. G watches me, his gaze falling on the sign that says "Kurosaki Clinic" above our modified garage. I hear him let out a huff of air and I turn back to watch his profile. His eyebrows are drawn in, mouth turn down in a frown. I can see his jaw twitching, the tick forming on that perfect angular jaw. I know I should pull my gaze away but I don't, not even when he turns back to face me, his frown deepening.

If this had been three months ago, if I was still the kid I used to be, I would have thrown myself at Mr. G. With my emotions on haywire today, I've finally decided that I was tired of denying my attraction to my teacher. It was wrong, but it didn't feel like it. If I wasn't so broken, I know I'd be like those shameless girls who were always trying to gain his attention. But that wasn't the case. I was broken, used. No guy like Mr. G would even bat their eyes my way if they knew what I had been through. The reminder washes over me and I feel anger wash over me, yet another emotion to add to my arsenal of feelings that were overwhelming me today.

Fuck, I was exhausted.

I don't take my eyes off him as I let out a deep breath. "Thanks for walking me home Mr. G."

I don't even question myself as the words tumble out of my mouth. I'm too tired to question every little reason I find myself speaking actual words to the man in front of me.

His eyes scan my face, my cheeks burning. "Grimmjow, call me Grimmjow."

"Grimmjow." I taste the name on my tongue. I like it.

The way I say his name has him narrowing his eyes. He doesn't say anything and yet again I find myself surrounded by a silence that I don't feel the need to escape.

"I should head in..."

I look down at my feet and kick a rock. Deep inside I want Mr G- Grimmjow - to tell me not to. He doesn't, of course. What would he want with a broken seventeen year old? I say nothing else as I hitch my bag higher onto my shoulder and step away. I use every will in my body to not turn around. I can feel him staring at me, those eyes hold me in ways I didn't know was possible. My heart is pounding by the time I finally get into the house. I close the door behind me and press my body into the door.

I'm taking calming breaths as my mom rolls her way around the corner. She looks up at me in surprise and rolls her way towards me.

"Hey Honey, what are you doing home?"

I'm assuming the school hasn't called based off of her question. I merely shrug, hating myself for not being able to talk to my own mother. Hating myself for only allowing myself to talk to someone who was practically a stranger. She offers me a small smile and motions for me to follow her into the kitchen. We've had everything in the kitchen lowered shortly after the accident. it allows my mom to still participate in everyday activities. Everything is the perfect height for her and the twins, but makes my dad and I feel like giants.

"I was just fixing up your dad a snack, would you like some too?"

I nod my head and give her a small smile. I always try to put in more effort whenever I talk to my mom. She deserves more than just shrug after everything I've put her through. I take a seat at the table and watch as she expertly moves around the kitchen. I feel the same guilt that I always do whenever I see her having to do modified task because of her disability. As if my emotions couldn't be any more crazy, I feel myself hating myself a little bit more.

I must of let out a sigh or something, because my mom is placing a plate of cut up fruit in front of me. She's looking up at me with so much love that I can feel tears forming. How could she love me when I was so broken? How could she love me when I broke her? I shake my head and try to will the thoughts away. It's been nearly eight years since the accident and I still wasn't over it. Truthfully I never thought I would be. My mom places a hand on my cheek and rubs it affectionately with her thumb. She gives a little pat before she pulls her hand away.

"I'm going to bring these to your dad, why don't you go lay down for a nap. You look like you need it." She doesn't say anything else as she backs up and rolls away from me.

Following her advice, I make my way upstairs towards my room. As soon as I enter a thick cloud of silence envelopes me. Heart pounding I tap my pockets looking for my iPod. I reach for my bag, turning it over completely, not caring that all of my paperwork and books crash to the floor. I see my beat up phone, but no iPod. My breathing becomes shallow as the silence that has formed in my room grows louder. Panic sinks in further when I realize that it's not there. I clamp my hands over my ears as if it would be any help to block out the memories that are flooding back.

My hands went clammy as I fell to the floor. He wasn't there but I could still feel him. Hot hands making their way down my body. Breath on the back of my neck heating the skin and making it damp. Hair tickling my ears. Flesh on flesh. Tears that never stopped.

Tears flowed. If I could have thrown up I would have. I'm telling myself that it's not real that I don't need to be scared. That everything was over and I'm moving on with my life. Except I'm not. I'm not moving on at all. I'm still the crumple mess of tears and broken body that he left on the floor when he walked away one last time. I feel myself choking out loud sobs, curling myself into a ball as tears flow out, not seemingly like they'd stop any time soon.

I wake up and my room is lit. There's music playing in the background and the silence that was eating at my heart early has recessed, biding its time until it has a chance to attack again. I'm still on the floor, my body uncomfortable against the carpet. I stare into the nothing for a second until I realize I'm not alone. My head snaps and I see Dr. Unohana sitting on my computer chair with a sad smile on her lips. I let out a sigh once I've realized that it was her who put on the music. The sound of Sinatra fills the room and I realize it's coming from the speaker on her phone that she's placed on the carpet next to me. Never in my life have I been so grateful to see her.

I push myself off the floor with a wince and sit cross legged. I notice that she's brought the white board with her, only two colors are my option today: red or blue. I close my eyes and take a shaky breath as I reach forward for the blue marker. I hear Dr. Unohana scribble something on the pad in front of her.

 _Why are you here?_

"Your father called me." Her voice is calm.

I can't help but wonder how much this house visit is going to cost.

"Don't worry, Ichigo. I'm here as a favor."

 _I hate it when you read my mind._ I scribble quickly and show her.

She laughs lightly and I feel a scowl form on my face. "Ichigo, if I could read your mind, I would know what was wrong."

My scowl drops and replaces with a frown. _I saw him today._

Dr. Unohana knows. I told her in once that someone did something bad to me and that I didn't want to talk about it. Obviously, that's not that's not how therapy works. I watch as sadness crosses over her face before switching back to the more neutral expression I was used to. She doesn't say anything. I erase what I wrote on the board quickly.

 _I saw him and I threw up. Grimmjow saw me and took me to his classroom._

I flip the board quickly before turning it around and erasing, my hand moving quickly across the small white board. It takes several minutes for me to write, show her, erase, and repeat, but I get it out there.

 _I came home and the silence around me became too much. I couldn't find my iPod and I freaked out. The memories came rushing me. How he used to touch me, how he said he wanted the quiet so that he could hear me all the better. I hate it, I hate him. How could he do this to me?_

I don't realize how angry I am as I throw the board across the room. It hits the wall next to my bed and lands with a soft thud. Dr. Unohana shows no reaction to what just happened, she's used to my outburst and flashes of anger. Even as a kid I could never control my temper, it only because worse after I quit karate after my mom's accident. Just thinking of the accident causes anger to courses through me again. I pound on my thigh with my fist as I look up at the therapist still sitting silently on my computer chair. She isn't writing anything down, just staring at me.

"Is this the first time you've seen him?" Her eyes are soft, I can tell she wants to bring me a plate of cookies.

I nod, regretting that I've thrown my only means of communication across the room. Well, I could talk. But I won't.

"Have you told anyone else?"

I shake my head.

"Not even Grimmjow?"

I glare at her. How could she tell that I want nothing else to spill my guts out to him?

"I think you should get to know him, Ichigo." She scribbles something down on her notepad. "I think that he's good for you."

I laugh to myself. Good for me? I've said a handful of words and phrase to him in the past week and suddenly he's good for me?

"He's the only one you've spoken to in three months." There she goes reading my mind again. "I'm not reading your mind, Ichigo." I quirk an eyebrow at her. She lets out a small laugh that fills the room effortlessly. "All I'm saying is that if you have that if you have the opportunity to talk to someone, take it. You can talk to me all you want, that's fine with me. But verbal words, being able to express yourself without the constant writing and erasing, is something that's incredibly important."

I know she's right. I want to hate her for it, but I don't. It is her job after all.

"I'm going to prescribe you an additional medicine for your anxiety the next time we meet. I think the anti-depressants are working fine for now, but I want to ensure that we can lessen these panic attacks. This is your second one that I'm aware of in the past couple of days. Who knows how many you're not reporting to me." She gives me a knowing look.

I sit there dumbly as she stands, our session together over. I stand as well and lead her to my door. Together we walk downstairs. My dad is sitting on the couch with my mom in front of him in her wheelchair. They're holding hands and talking with the their heads together as if they weren't trying to disturb Yuzu and Karin who were doing their homework at the dining table. I felt eight pairs of eyes on me once my feet hit the landing. No one says anything and Dr. Unohana clears her throat.

"I'm going to be taking off now."

I watch my dad stand as he makes his way over to his colleague. He gives her a quick hug as he escorts her towards the front door. I watch their exchange, talking in hushed words. I know that she's not allowed to tell him anything thanks to doctor and patient confidentiality, but uneasiness still works its way into my brain. I'm only pulled out of my thoughts when I feel a small hand latch onto mine. Yuzu's tugging on me to follow her to the dining table.

"Come on Onii-chan, you can help me with my Kanji."

I was mildly surprised to see a body standing in front of my desk. I wasn't planning on going to school today. I had every intention of staying in my room and blasting my music and blocking out the world. But I didn't. I went downstairs and saw my mom staring at me with these eyes and I turned around and got ready for class. I had my eyes glued to the paper in front of me as I wrote in my journal, words flowing out of me like they had never before. My pencil paused over the character I had just finished writing. My eyes slowly moved up the curvy form in front of me. I knew that apricot colored hair would be in my view next, followed by a small pointed chin, and grey eyes that were terribly similar to ones that plagued my nightmares.

Orihime stared down at me with a flush across her face. Her bottom lip trembled and I could only imagine what she was telling herself inside her mind. Inoue Orihime was my best friend and last girlfriend. She had known me since middle school, after my mom's accident. She baked me these horrendous cookies after I had told her what happened, but I pretended to like them because I knew she had good intentions. She watched me date girls throughout high school, patiently waiting until I turned my eyes onto her. When I finally did, she cried.

It's terrible of me to say this, but considering I'm a pretty shitty person this shouldn't be a surprise, my only intentions dating Orihime were to continue the biggest lie of my life. When I made my through the girls of our high school, I could never get past kissing them. Girls would be so lewd and let me feel them up, but it did nothing for me. I figured it was them, that I wasn't really attracted to them. It couldn't have been me. No one would believe it. I wouldn't believe it. So, I ran to Orihime.

She's beautiful, curvy in ways that's beyond our years, so sweet, and I already knew I loved her more than I loved any of those other girls. But the love for her was not the same as the love she had for me. The love of a sister, a friend, someone who could keep me sane when I knew I wasn't. And I pushed her away in the worst way possible. I gave her silence that led to an unofficial break up, questions in the air, and no ways of closure.

Orihime blinked down at me. I waited for her to say something, because there was no way I was going to say anything to her. My heart hurt a little. She didn't deserve the silence. She didn't deserve this pain I knew she carried. She didn't deserve to be lead on by her best friend. She didn't deserve to love me more than she loved herself. She didn't deserve a boyfriend who cheated on her with a guy.

"Kurosaki-kun."

Her voice was soft and it tickled my ears. In that moment, it felt like it had been more than three months since I last heard her say my name. The pain in my heart grew a little more.

"You don't have to say anything to me, Kurosaki-kun." Her voice trembled. "I saw you get sick yesterday. I also saw you leave with Mr. G." Her voice was quiet and even though there was business in the classroom, her voice was the only thing I could comprehend. "I'm not going to pretend that I'm not hurt. That I can't comfort you at all. I'm so worried about you, Kurosaki-kun. I'm so worried about my best friend…"

She didn't say anything else. I watched as the tears streamed down her face, a small, sad smile playing on her lips. Orihime stared at me for a second longer before rushing out of the classroom just as our teacher walked in to begin class. Nemu-sensei watched as Orihime ran off, yelling after her to come back to class. I didn't think, I just felt my legs propel after her. My mind registered that Nemu-sensei hadn't called after me.

The hallways were deserted and it didn't take me long to find Orihime. She was sitting on the staircase, her face in her hands as her shoulders shook uncontrollably. I didn't say anything as I sat next to her and wrapped my arms around her instinctively. She turned in my embrace as she wrapped her arms around me, tears instantly soaking my shirt. I rubbed small circles on her back as she cried, her breathes deep and long as she tried to control her emotions.

"I love you so much Kurosaki-kun. I've loved you since the moment that you walked into my life. When I lost my brother, all I had was you. You've seen it all, the good, the bad, the ugly. I love you so much that I could never hate you, despite what Rukia says."

She pulled away from me and pounded her small fist into my chest. I pulled her back in.

"Why can't you talk to me? Why can't you let me in, knowing I love you so much?"

If there was anything left to my heart, I'm pretty sure it would have broke into a millicon pieces at this moment. Having Orihime cry in my arms reminded me how much of a shitty person I was. How I didn't deserve to be happy, that I deserve to be as broken as I am because I break every person around me. I held onto Orihime tighter. The nicest girl I ever met was breaking in my arms because of my stupid decisions. I couldn't protect the last girl I'd ever love because I couldn't protect myself.

Shitty patient, shitty son, shitty friend.

"Excuse me."

Orihimie and I both jumped at the voice. I didn't need to turn around to know who's deep voice it was. Orihime's face flamed red, I couldn't only imagine it was from the exertion of crying and from the embarrassment of being caught. I straightened my shoulders as I turned around, catching impossibly blue eyes instantly. They were hard and reminded me of glaciers. Grimmjow's stance was brooding and I could see the negative waves that were rolling off his body.

"Why aren't you in class?"

Despite the fact that there were two of us there, I could tell that the question was directed more towards me. Honestly, I could have asked him the same thing.

"Mr. G!" Orihime jumped from where she was sitting next to me and began bowing. "I'm so sorry. I got upset over something and rushed out of class. Kurosaki-kun ran after me to comfort me."

Blue eyes flickered in Orihime's direction for less than a second before finding mine again. I could hear Orihime rattling all of kinds of excuses and apologizing profusely, but it sounded like white noise to me.

"Miss Inoue, I'd like to hear what Ichigo has to say on the matter."

My eyes narrowed instantly.

"Ah, Mr. G," Orihime shifted on her feet uncontrollably as she looked between me and the blue-haired teacher. "I'm sure you must have heard that Kurosaki-kun doesn't ta-"

"I know what I said," Grimmjow looked at her with a flicker of annoyance that she didn't deserve. "Miss Inoue, I suggest you head back to class before you miss anymore than you already have."

I said nothing as he directed the comment towards her but not me. I could feel Orihime staring at me, but I refused to rip my eyes away from the blue ones. From the corner of my eye, I could see Orihime give one more bow before running off to class.

"How long are you going to let people think you don't have a voice?" Grimmjow crossed over his arms over his chest.

I didn't say anything.

"That girl deserves to know whatever you're hiding."

I know.

"Are you really pulling the silent treatment on me?"

Yes.

"You have words use them."

No.

"You're better than this."

I'm not.

"Why are you like this?"

I'm broken.

"Who broke you?"

My eyes went wide. I couldn't tell if I said the words out loud or not. I stood up and pushed my way past the other man. I didn't hear footsteps follow me and I was a little disappointed. I made my way toward the front of the school. I opened my locker to change my shoes and stopped in my tracks. In front of me was my iPod with their earbuds wrapped around them, tucked into my shoe. I let out a shaky breath as I reached for it and slipped the device into my pocket.

I reached forward and pulled out my street shoes to change into. Today was shit. After the day I had yesterday, I decided that I didn't need to go to class after all. I pushed out the front door and walked out of the court yard. When I reached the front gates I could feel eyes on me. I looked over my shoulder and found Grimmjow staring at me from his classroom window, a deep frown placed on his lips. Shrugging, I turned and walked off.

Today was shit. I was shit.

* * *

 **Well, hello.**

 **It's been a minute, I know. You'd think that in this day and age, I'd stop having computer issues, but alas that does not seem to be the case. I had to write this on a Google doc and do my best with editing once I copied and pasted it here, so I apologize for any errors or weird spacing.**

 **I'm incredibly thankful for all the people who've read and left reviews or followed this story so far. It makes me so happy to see all of it.**

 **I would like to apologize for the lack of dialogue that this story contains. A lot of what you're going to be reading is in Ichigo's head. I want to point out to anyone who thinks that Ichigo is all over the place in this chapter, its because he is. He's conflicted, he's hurt, he's feeling things he should, things he doesn't _think_ he deserves to feel. His emotional instability is thoroughly validated, we just aren't able to see the full story as why. I tease the information a lot in this chapter and I'm sure you can make certain assumptions from what I've insinuated. I hope you don't think Ichigo is too OOC in this. **

**I love you guys, thanks for still following my stories even though I take terribly long breaks.**


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